A Tragic Kind of Wonderful(27)

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m like the great-great-great-great-granddaughter you never had.”

“I thank the Maker every night that it’s an informal relationship.”

The game enters its acceleration phase. He wins, only because I dropped my queen of hearts on the diamond stack and had to take it back and got flustered. I scoop up the cards to separate the reds from the blues.

“So, what does David think of me?”

Dr. Jordan smiles. I smile back.

“Do you care?” he asks.

“You said you knew so I’m curious. Have you even talked to him?”

“Some. But I’m a trained psychiatrist. I watch. I listen. I judge.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And this is why we don’t have these kinds of conversations.” I hold up the red deck of cards. “Tell me or I’ll use your blue deck and you get these disease carriers.” We needed another deck for Double Solitaire so I grabbed the red cards from the games cabinet. Dr. Jordan thinks money is the dirtiest thing around but that community playing cards are a strong second place.

“When you’re not looking at him,” he says, “he’s looking at you.”

“So? There’s no one else our age here. In a room full of a hundred people and two dogs, the dogs will go sniff each other.” I hand Dr. Jordan his blue deck. “Plus I know I’m … an odd thing to look at.”

“How so?”

“You know. Freckles, but not the red hair or the green eyes. I’m kind of a mutt.”

“Brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles doesn’t make you a mutt. It’s exotic.”

I snort.

“It seems to work for that what’s-her-name on those Hollywood news shows in the TV room. The girl who’s usually in some kind of trouble.”

“Maybe I’m destined for incarceration, too.”

“He also makes unlikely excuses to come into whatever room you’re in.”

“You ready?” My solitaire staircase is done. His is only halfway there.

“I’ve told you about the fluoroquinolone-caused neuropathy in my hands, right?”

“About a thousand times, though I’m not sure those are the same words. You might be making up new gibberish every time. It’s just an excuse for when you lose and to make me feel worse when you win.”

David enters with Ms. Li on his arm. He says to her, “It’s cold in here without the sun.”

Dr. Jordan looks at me over his glasses.

“It isn’t cold,” Ms. Li says. “Is it, Mel?”

“Oh, it’s definitely cold in here, but—”

“See?” David says.

“But…” I say, “that’s why we’re here. You don’t want to be comfortable all the time. People who do move to Florida. Don’t you want to spice things up with something different sometimes?” I make meaningful eye contact with Dr. Jordan. “Maybe even something … exotic?”

I admire Dr. Jordan’s poker face. We could take Dr. Oswald to the cleaners.

“What about you, Mr. Jordan?” David asks. “You think it’s cold in here?”

“It just got chillier, you calling me that. Please, call me Piers. As for the debate, I abstain. You Californians don’t know the meaning of the word cold.”

“I know what’ll warm you up,” I say to David. “A shot of gin rummy.”

Before he can answer, Ms. Li lets go of him and sits at our table. That leaves only the opposite chair.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll give you room. I remember you don’t like touching girls.”

“I guess I’m outnumbered.” David’s hand brushes my shoulder, as if he couldn’t avoid it to get around me.

He sits. “Should we make it interesting?”

“Definitely not,” I say. “Not for money, not for articles of clothing, not …” I falter, my face heating up. Sometimes I wish I knew what I was going to say in time to decide not to. “I’m too broke to play with this many sharks. Let’s keep it just between friends for now.”

David and Ms. Li exchange a glance. She nods.

He looks back to me.

“As you wish.”





HAMSTER IS ACTIVE

HUMMINGBIRD IS HOVERING

HAMMERHEAD IS CRUISING

HANNIGANIMAL IS LEVEL

On Wednesday Zumi didn’t show up to Chemistry. I couldn’t find Connor at lunch but I saw him slip into one of his classes so I know he was at school.

Today Zumi no-shows again. I don’t see Connor all day and end up spending lunch period at the track by the long jump pit.

The moment school lets out I text Connor: Where are you?

I head for my locker to switch books. Halfway there, my phone buzzes with his answer.

Home.

Sick?

No. Study period. I leave an

hour early when I don’t drive

Zumi home.

You alone?

Yes.

I think for a moment, then:

Can I come over?

Why?

To see how you’re doing.

Zumi’s still not talking much.

I don’t know anything.

I want to see how YOU are doing.